Sermon
December 11, 2011
Isaiah
61:1-4, 8-11
Psalm
126
1
Thessalonians 5:16-24
John
1:6-8, 19-28
“Hope
Restored”
What
do we know about faith until we find doubt? How can we answer the
pain, sorrow or doubts that plague us until we realize that God is
who is there in the need and the desire? How do we dream of the realm
of God until we understand that all we desire here and now will fall
through our hands and only the love we share with all of creation by
the grace of God will last?
The
bible was written in an arid land where the return of the wet season
meant that flowers would bloom and crops could be grown. People could
then count on food to be grown for another season or year. So, in
Psalm 126, when the psalmist describes good fortune restored as “
like the watercourses in the Negeb” it can be hard to imagine in a
place where overflowing rivers and floods are a bigger problem most
years than regular times of drought. We are called to remember that
one person's curse maybe another's blessing—and vice
versa.
[In
South Africa,] “the train which travels from
Pretoria to Cape Town takes one through a desert region which can
seem very barren. In the spring, however, when the land has been
moistened with rain, the landscape changes. Beautiful, brightly
coloured flowers cover the round like a mat – an image of
abundance, and an image of the metaphor of Psalm 126 – seeds sown
in arid soil and watered with tears.”1
And
because it is metaphor, we can understand that times of tears water
the soil of our lives and reveal more pleasant times, times of joy.
It is not, as some say, that God will not give us more than we can
handle—many people have received more than they could handle—but
that God's hope is in the everlasting promise of renewal and new life
in the face of death and barrenness.
But
if good begins to be seen in the midst of the tears, in the seat of
sadness, sometimes the joy is hard to imagine. The psalmist begins,
“When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those
who dream.” Last week I described how the people of Judea—of
Judah and Israel—had been in exile when Isaiah wrote of God's
comfort and peace for them upon their return. In the psalm for today,
several years after that return, after the joy of going home and
rebuilding their cities and lives, they are told to recall that joy
in circumstances of loss and sorrow. Remember, the psalmist sang, “We
were so happy that we couldn't believe it—it was like a dream.”
Remember, the psalmist sang, too, “Our mouths were full of laughter
and joy!” Though they had been in exile for years beyond just
consequence—according to God—they were returning home with
incredible joy and justification. They were happy, full of joy and
their restored lives were testimony to God's actions in their lives
once again. Once again, they could say, look at the good that God
does. Once again they could say, God is good and really believe it.
The
psalmist writes this reminder, “We rejoiced,” then, remember. And
continues to talk to God directly, “Restore, like a flood in the
dry waterway.” It's been so long, God, restore us. Remind us, that
if we sow tears, we will reap laughter and joy. We must sow who it is
that we are today to reap God's gift of tomorrow and all of the
coming tomorrows.
Like
before in their life as a nation and in their lives as tribes and
communities, horrible awful things had happened and God had restored
them, again and again.
Much
of the biblical story is spent telling us the same thing over and
over again. The bible reminds us in different circumstances and with
different words of God's never-ending, constant and insistent
movement toward our redemption (salvation from some sort of slavery
or oppression) and our happiness and joy (which in its purity comes
in our relationship with God.)
In
the biblical story, humanity is pursued by God so that our lives can
be redeemed from slavery and oppression. And in the biblical story,
the oppressor was the one who changed—Israel stayed the same:
human, flawed and ever in need and God remained constant: ready to
discipline, love and redeem. So slavery and oppression was the evil
from which God's people needed rescue.
Where
do evil events and systems come from in today's world? Every time I
begin to contemplate the existence of evil in the world, I can't help
but go back to a couple of sentences I first read a few years ago,
“If only there were
evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were
necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them.
But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every
human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own
heart?”2
I do believe that
humanity is redeemable through the power and grace of God—but we
cannot keep pointing fingers at the violent destructive oppression of
other people or nations when violence destructive oppression comes
from the choices we make, too. Even when we do not intend it, systems
that benefit our ways of living cause others pain. And when the
responsibility for recognizing the injustice in the world is in large
part ours, the mantle is heavy and difficult. “To those whom much
is given,” Jesus said, “much is expected.”
This
week I read, “When I die and stand before God, I believe I will
rail again him for allowing so much suffering and pain, so much
injustice and inequality. Like the author of Lamentations, I will
ask: “How?”
“How could you allow so much pain and inequality.” Only to hear
God reply: “How could you?”3
We
are given an opportunity to experience
the joy that comes from the kind of freedom and restoration the
psalmist describes and we do that as we participate in the life and
ministry of Christ. When Luke told how Jesus described his own
anointed ministry he used part of the text from Isaiah today, bind up
the broken-hearted, proclaim liberty to the captive, release to the
prisoner, etc. and Isaiah continued, “provide a mantle of praise
instead of a faint spirit.”
This
mantle of praise reminds us that the responsibility of Jesus'
ministry is also our own, brought into our lives through the baptism
that we share with him—and shared among all who also share the
spirit of Christ in their lives. This is our sharing in the joy of
the freedom and restoration for people here and everywhere.
God
is at work in every human endeavor that strives for peace and
wholeness, even if that peace is partial and that wholeness only
glimpsed. [Whatever tiny step we take to make the world more just and
whole is all that we need to do. We can't feed the whole world, but
we can help a few in this country and also reach out into lands and
peoples who don't have this country's resources.] We are leaning
toward that day when all things will be whole, not just restored but
made new. And this promise isn't for just one nation but for all of
God's children; one commentator reminds us that God made promises to
Abraham and Sarah about being a blessing to "all the families of
the earth" (Genesis 12:1-3). So the healing and compassion will
encompass all those who suffer, and the rebuilding will make our
social systems as just as
our bridges will be made sturdy.4
The
joy we experience in God's restoration, God's justice, God's
wholeness and peace are incredible, but we all know that we cannot
accomplish anything alone—not without God and not without our
sisters and brothers in Christ and truly, not without the willingness
to recognize all people as God's children.
The
mantle of praise sound wonderful and exciting, but every mantle that
is given by God requires our willingness to wear it with sincerity
and with hope—to carry it so that it is not just our own, but it is
a gift for all the world.
To
God's glory and wearing our mantle of sincere and joyful praise.
Amen.
1Seasons
of the Spirit Fusion, December 11 Biblical Background.
2
Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's Gulag
Archipelago
4http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/december-11-2011-third-sunday.html
Commentator, Dennis
Olson
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